A Week Left Wanting
by MeiDarkreign
Summary: Bulma and Vegeta are far from friendly feelings. But for both of them, going too long without intimate contact is taking its toll. One week alone together, how will they deal?
1. Solo

A/N: This is my first DBZ fanfic. I've always been a big fan of the Bulma/Vegeta relationship, so this is my take on one possible way they wound up together. I have tried to be as canon as possible, but I apologize if there are any mistakes. I am planning this fanfic to be a couple chapters long, so please enjoy the ride.

**Warning:** This is for Mature Adult's only.

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama.

* * *

Something was off. As soon as he entered the room, he knew something was not as it should be. He walked toward the tall cabinet and soon realized why. The drying cloths smelled different. They smelled like…_her._

_

* * *

_

Bulma sat at her workstation, chin leaning against hand, sighing while the code compiled. Normally, she would be working with her father or helping her mother with some household chore or another that needed to be done. But both of them were gone for the week, so the only other occupant around was a very temperamental Saiyan prince. Watching code compile was a far better choice to socializing with him. Sadly, she often had little choice in the matter.

"WOMAN!" The devil himself came bursting through the doorway, anger radiating off him in waves. She turned in her chair, a bored look on her face, and saw the prince in all his glory. _Ugh_. It happened occasionally that Vegeta forgot the common decency of wearing clothing around others, usually when he was too angry to care. This appeared to be one such occasion.

"What do _you_ want? And cover yourself. No one wants to see that." He ignored her last quip and threw the towel in his hand—yes, the towel in his hand and not around his waist where it should be—towards her. She caught it and looked it over. It was a plain, white towel, freshly laundered and perfectly fit for anyone, apparently, except a prince. "It's the same type of towel you've been using the whole time you've been here. What's your problem?"

He took a step forward and crossed his arms. "My problem is that it smells like you. I do not want the scent of a weak human woman on my body. Have some new ones prepared immediately."

Bulma sighed and threw the towel back toward him. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but those are the only towels in the house. And until my mother gets back from her vacation, you'll just have to deal with smelling a little girly." He made a very rude guttural sound and stalked off. Oh, wasn't this week just going to be so much fun?

* * *

The shower calmed him a bit, but anger still pulsed within his body. Saiyans had an incredibly acute sense of smell. It was useful when attempting to find an enemy, but damned inconvenient when around a woman in heat. As a young boy, he noticed that whenever a female servant was snippy they smelled of blood. He had asked his father the reason for this, and his father laughed. The king had explained to him that women bleed for a short while every cycle if they do not reproduce, and that it tended to make them more volatile. It was not until he was much older that he learned about the newer scents after their bleeding and what they entailed.

That blasted woman had been bleeding not long ago, and now he could smell something far more intoxicating from her. This was not the first time he had smelled it, but he could usually avoid her scent for the duration. Having the scent infused with every fiber of the drying cloths made things much more difficult.

He hated Earth and all of its occupants, especially that woman, but being male did have its drawbacks. Sex was one of the most basic of instincts, and he had not had any in quite a while. And he would not dare lower himself to releasing himself like a lowly monkey. After years of this, any female in heat caught his attention. He would be damned if this blue-haired weakling broke his fast.

Stepping out of the shower, he shook himself dry, adding a slight touch of ki to remove any excess, and placed on his training outfit. Who needed drying cloths anyway? The gravity room hummed to life as he boarded, and quickly slammed him to the floor. Surprised, Vegeta looked at the gravity gauge and saw it had spiked to 300G. He was training in 300G, but the sudden change had caught him off guard. As he put a good deal of strength into standing, he found himself ramming into the ceiling. _What the hell?_ The gravity gauge now read 150G. The damn thing was malfunctioning. He could not train under such conditions.

* * *

Once again, she found herself staring at an angry Saiyan, who screamed at her for another thing that was not her fault but that he made her fault anyway. At least he wasn't naked this time. "I'll take a look at it tomorrow. Right now I have programs to test."

"No, woman, you will look at it now! I have already wasted precious time and you will not cause me to waste anymore!" She sighed and stood from the computer.

"Alright, I can run the diagnostic today, but you'll still have to wait until at least tomorrow before it can be fixed."

"That is unacceptable!"

He was being impossible, and she was through putting up with it. "Well tough shit, Vegeta! The diagnostic takes a few hours to analyze, and then who knows how long it will be before I know the problem. I didn't build the damn thing, so you're just going to have to live with it!" A grumble, no a growl, emanated from his throat as he fought to find a comeback but failed.

"Hurry up, then. Even without the gravity, I still wish to use the space to train, and I would rather not have to be in your presence for longer than I have to." With that, he left the lab.

She couldn't believe him. No gratitude for anything she ever did for him. It was as though she were his servant. Well, he might appreciate her a bit more if she "couldn't find the problem" for a few days, maybe even a week. He might be nicer to her then.

* * *

The woman's scent was stronger than usual. Perhaps it was the enclosed space that concentrated the hormones. He sorely wanted to step outside, but he needed to make sure she did not intentionally screw anything up. Not that he knew much about a gravity apparatus, but he certainly knew any indelicate touch to the circuitry was foul play. Watching the woman work was not altogether unpleasant either. She was wearing denim pants and a modest shirt, not a terribly arousing combination, but the way the denim hugged her buttocks as she kneeled before the panel pleased him. _She should always kneel in my presence._ A moment later, however, and he was feeling less pleased.

Whether it was the submission of the act, or the way her clothing hung on her, something caused the strange tightening of his groin. It was an odd sensation, not unfamiliar but uncommon. Neither act alone would cause such a physical reaction, he told himself, so it had to be her scent influencing him. Any sexual want or need for this woman was appalling, and he was glad when she finally stood.

She gave him an odd once-over, and would have done so again, but he would not allow it. "Now that you are done wasting my time, leave." Surprisingly, she complied without retort. He wondered how present his reaction had been, if she had seen it. No, he had not been that aroused. The woman had many curiosities about her, and observation was just one of them.

* * *

He was so big. She spread her legs before the faceless man and opened herself to swallow his large member. He pressed in slowly, torturing her with each second. It was painfully slow and she gripped his shoulders to urge him forward. This only caused him to move even more slowly. Though she could not see a mouth, she could feel the grin her desire caused him.

"Please," she begged. She never begged. A throaty laugh surrounded her and the faceless man buried himself deep within her. She moaned loudly and this seemed to encourage the man further. She was coming close to release when the man dipped his head towards hers. Features began to form and as she tumbled over the edge of her release she saw the man who gave it to her: Vegeta.

The sunlight nearly blinded her. She sat up quickly, breathing heavily, and clutching the covers of her bed. The dream had been so realistic. She still felt the tremors of the act uncoiling through her body. Pushing the covers to the side of her she saw just how realistic the act had been: her panties were wet with her desire. She felt embarrassed and quickly covered herself again. It had been awhile since that had happened to her, and with Vegeta adamant about keeping her scent away from him, she did not want to attract his attention.

Breathing in deeply, she dashed out of bed, grabbed a random outfit from her wardrobe, and bolted to the bathroom. Vegeta usually slept in longer than she, so it was possible to take a shower before he rose. As long as she disinfected the room after she was finished, he was never the wiser.

The water felt good against her skin. Her mind wandered and eventually found its way to her last dream. How could her brain fix Vegeta as the man to give her pleasure? Well, he was not unpleasant to look at, with rippling muscles and smooth skin, but his manner was very off-putting. Now that she thought of it, she could imagine the way he might take her. Nothing would be gentle about his motions, but it would be a carnal pleasure all the same. Thinking such thoughts sent a tightening sensation about her body. When was the last time she had been aroused?

She focused on her dream, Vegeta relishing in her submission and taking pleasure in her pleas. Her fingers slid to where the wetness was forming and gingerly stroked the area. As the dream replayed in her head, her fingers moved more quickly, her breath became ragged. The way he laughed as she begged him to penetrate her fully heightened her arousal. She imagined the cruel thrusts and how she screamed for more. Just before her dream climax, she came to her own. Her body convulsed and her knees weakened. She placed both hands against the tile in front of her and breathed deeply.

_That bastard_. The last time she had been even remotely aroused was before she and Yamcha had broken up, at least more than six months ago. Sure, the occasional trashy romance novel had given her a nice placebo effect, but she had not felt anything quite like this in a long time. And it was caused by that jerk of a prince.

She finished washing herself and stepped out of the shower, quickly drying herself off and dressing before leaving the bathroom. A knowing grin appeared on her lips as she walked towards her workstation. Without disinfecting the bathroom, her scent would be prevalent everywhere. _Let's see how he handles it._

_

* * *

_

He handled it badly. His morning shower was a necessity to wake him up for the day ahead, but being hit by a wall of scent did that well enough on its own. Every inch of the room smelled heavily of that infernal woman, and it was even more concentrated than in the gravity room. He still needed a shower, but how he would ever concentrate he did not know. As soon as he entered the small chamber, he felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him.

The sudden arousal stunned him. Her scent was thick here, and he doubted it all came just from a simple shower. He touched a patch of tile and brought his finger to his nose and breathed. This was more than daily scent, this was arousal. And that knowledge pulled at his groin further. He was not going to be able to concentrate his erection away, not with all that scent in the air. His hand found his problem without bidding and softly gliding about the length. If he was going to degrade himself, he should not have to do so for that woman. But, it was either that or deal with sore testes all day.

He imagined what it might be like to dominate her, having her kneel before him and plead with him to stop. He would take her from behind, like the dog she was, and discipline her so that she would know who her place. She lived to serve him, he thought as his hand quickened. She would learn the price of speaking back to him. She would learn to be fucked whenever and wherever he wanted her. She would…His mind went temporarily blank as his seed shot from him, coating the wall liberally. The horror eventually set in.

How could that lowly human arouse him so fully? He would not allow it.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review, and I will try to get the next chapter up quickly. Thanks again.


	2. Wishful Thinking

A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed. I have to say honestly that this is the first piece of fanfiction that has been received so well. I will try to get Ch.3 up by the end of the week, maybe sooner if I find the free time. So please continue to read and enjoy.

**Warning:** For Mature Adults only.

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama

* * *

For the rest of the morning, she had been undisturbed. A good chunk of her new programs had finished compiling and were ready to be tested. It occurred to her to check the diagnostic for what may have been causing the gravity levels in the gravity room to fluctuate, but Vegeta could live without his precious room for a few more hours while she ran her own simulations. By the afternoon, however, she knew she could not put him off any longer.

As she ran her simulations her hair began to stand on end. Over the years, as her friends fought, they gave off enormous ki energies, none of which she could sense. With Goku and Vegeta, and for that matter Gohan, it was a bit different. When they were angry, she felt it. It was not in the way the others felt their power, no it was the electricity. Their power always caused her hair to stand on end, and this only happened when they were angry. So, if she did not tend to Vegeta somehow, he might wind up shorting her equipment. And if he did that, well he would probably not live to see tomorrow.

She grabbed her equipment, none of which she would actually need to repair the problem, and strolled outside. It was a warm, clear day, with a slight breeze that ruffled her hair. The gravity room was being tortured, she noticed as she came closer. Vegeta was never gentle with anything he did. If it was possible to cut a diamond with pure will, he would be the one to do it. Taking in a deep breath, she pounded on the entrance. The torturing paused.

"What is it?" The prince sounded rather annoyed.

"Hey, don't you take that tone with me, Vegeta! Do you want this thing fixed or not?" Not that she would fix it, but teasing him with the idea sounded an amusing prospect to her. She swore she could hear him fight with his temper, and his conscious barely won out. "That's more like it."

* * *

She was lucky her skills were necessary. But another diagnostic? He thought this woman was supposed to be intelligent, but apparently she was rather ordinary. She claimed the last diagnostic had found nothing wrong, so she was redoing it to make sure the first did not miss anything. The gravity was necessary for his training, and her ineptitude was almost too much to bear. No one made the Prince of all Saiyans wait.

Disciplining her might teach her some manners. He wanted to shove her against the wall and beat her until she knew her duty. Sadly, one solid punch could kill the weakling female, so he could never actually fulfill his wish. Although, there were other ways to make her scream.

The woman was wearing shorts today, ones that should never have been considered appropriate outwear. From his angle, he could see the curves of her milky buttocks poking from beneath the fabric. _Yes, _he thought, _ fucking her would solve many of my problems._ He could imagine it now:

From where she knelt on the floor he would pull her up by the back of her shirt and bend her over the console, her ass sticking out and breasts swaying freely. Her clothes would remain only as long as he wished, and once he determined them unnecessary, they would fall to the floor in shreds. She would plead with him to stop, would make idle threats, would kick and bite, but he would just be all the more encouraged. He would grab a generous handful of each supple breast and tease her swollen lips with his desire. When she could barely stand it anymore, he would remove his clothing and bury himself deep within her and take her with all the force he wanted. She would scream and shout, and he would laugh all the while. As he came to his climax, he would spill himself over her back. And when she begged for release, he would simply smile and leave her in her dirtied state. Yes, she would know who her master was then.

He must have been smiling, because the woman gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you okay? You look happy, and that's never a good sign."

Crossing his arms, he blanked his face. "Hmph. Just thinking about the best way to kill Kakarot, is all. The sooner you finish, the sooner I will accomplish that goal." The woman breathed out a labored sigh and shook her head.

"Whatever you say. Well, I will go run this diagnostic. Have fun beating up the room while I'm gone." He watched her leave, and wished he had disciplined her when he had the chance.

* * *

Of course the second diagnostic would say nothing new. The first one had identified the gravity sensor as being out of alignment, and that would surely be the reason for the malfunction. Why should she fix it if Vegeta insisted on being an ass? Well, she would have to eventually. She could push it for the rest of the day, but by tomorrow she would have to fix it. Otherwise there was likely to be a fist-sized imprint in all of her projects. Or in her.

Vegeta liked to make threats about killing her or those she knew, but she knew he could not do so…for the time being, anyway. Being friends with Goku had its perks, and until that lunk-headed prince found a way to become a super Saiyan, she was untouchable. But her projects were another matter entirely. Too much time and effort had been spent on them to be ruined now. So, she had to bend to the ass's will in the end. Damned if she wouldn't make him work for it, though.

For the next several hours, Bulma worked diligently on the calibration data her father's military technology branch had sent her. Several of the experimental aircraft were experiencing time lags and circuitry connectivity issues. The calibration data indicated problems, but few issues were caused by the same thing. So, it took her awhile to sort everything out. Finally, around five o'clock, she leaned back in her chair and called it a day for that data.

She imagined the Saiyan would be getting hungry any minute now, and with his temperament today she had better have dinner for him or he might just blow something up. The issue was, she was a terrible cook. Oh, yes, she could cook well enough for herself, but few people could call what she ate edible. Her mother had prepared a week's worth of food for an army, but she still had to heat it up. Well, how hard could it be?

Scrounging around the refrigerator found her a hearty stew. Easy enough, just pour into the pot and heat until hot. As soon as she started warming the stew, the prince arrived. She wondered if it was just good timing, or that acute nose of his. Whichever it was, he was there and very impatient to start eating.

"Is my food ready yet?" He never asked questions, he demanded answers.

"Just a few minutes. Have a seat and be patient." She turned back to the stew and stirred slowly.

"A few minutes is too long to wait. I shall have to eat something else while I am deprived of food." Odd, but whatever. There was plenty of food in the kitchen, so he might as well help hims---! A rough hand reached around her and grabbed her breast, tweaking the nipple and holding her from moving elsewhere. "You will do nicely." Lips found her neck and a wet tongue traced up her spine and around her jaw. She heard a loud ripping and found her shirt on the floor in two pieces.

"What the hell do you—" The other hand covered her mouth and pulled her against the hardened body.

"Sit on the counter," he commanded as he lifted her up to the cold, tiled surface. The prince definitely looked hungry, but she was certain it was not food he was after. Fortunately, he spared the remainder of her clothing and let her slip in off hurriedly. With her body now bare, he cupped one breast and suckled the other, his tongue playing delicately over the rosy nipple. As he sucked he elicited a sharp moan from her lips. He continued more voraciously, the other hand moving across the plane of her stomach to the soft curls below.

He teased the heated entrance with one finger, grazing the sensitive spot with a devilish intent. She would not let the bastard win. She would not beg. But the grazing became all that she felt and her body ached for more. When he added a slight bit more pressure, she screamed and he laughed. That seemed an adequate submission, as he pressed a finger inside to delve between her slick folds. He worked slowly at first, but increased his speed. His mouth followed the same trail his hand had followed and he was now staring into her.

She tried to close her legs in embarrassment, but he would have nothing of it. Removing his hand, he spread her thighs and breathed in deeply. His tongue snaked along her inner thigh and teased the outer lips. Finally, he found her core and began to have his fill. The faster he fed, the faster she slipped into ecstasy. She was close, she could fill the pressure building, she—

"WOMAN, I said is my food ready?" The agitated Saiyan stood many feet away from her, arms crossed. She glanced at the pot and saw it bubbling. A slightly acrid smell was coming from it, meaning she must have burnt the bottom. Oh well, he would never notice anyway. That would teach her not to daydream while cooking.

"Yes, now sit down while I serve it." Not so much a courtesy for him, but a convenience for her: if she just let him serve himself, she would never get any.

As she watched the Saiyan eat, and he was a much neater diner than Goku ever was, she could not help but wonder why her body chose him as the vessel of all her pleasure. He was the only single, handsome man around her these days, so maybe her brain was just settling for the closest thing around. But she wondered: If it were simply that, then why was her body aching to be used? She had a terrible feeling this was not the end of her body's need for the Saiyan prince.

* * *

A/N: So, this chapter was slightly shorter than the first, but more condensed with the naughty. Please review and as I said above I will hopefully have the third chapter up by weeks end. Things are only going to go uphill from here.


	3. A Helping Hand

A/N: Hey, I'm back again. Thank you so much for those of you who have been reviewing. I was able to get this chapter up much sooner than expected. Please read and enjoy.

**Warning:** For Mature Adults only.

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama.

* * *

_Horatio grabbed the unsuspecting woman and hoisted her over his shoulder. _A fine prize_, he thought to himself, a wide grin gracing his sun-kissed face. The dame would be but a mere drop in his bucket, but what a fine drop she would be. _

_Ugh_, she knew this novel was supposed to be trashy, but this was just awful. Bulma discarded the book atop the pile of books she had started and been too annoyed with to finish. The idea of the roguish male protagonist and the strong-willed, beautiful woman was one she looked for in any romantic tale. Sadly, most of those books tended to make her want to gag. It was so hard to find a well-written romance novel with steamy sex and heart-wrenching love-making. It hadn't helped that for the last few books she had started, she had imagined Vegeta in the role of the male lead.

The first book she had started was about a modern-day businesswoman who was attracted to her male boss. If anything, Vegeta was stern enough to be in an executive position, but imagining him in a business suit with that hair of his put her into a fit of laughter, and she was forced to stop reading. The second had been a western, homestead romance. Vegeta played the hardened, but kind ranch-hand that defended the damsel's honor at every turn. Again, imagining him with a cowboy hat had been too much. Finally, he played the role of pirate, stealing his prize of a woman. The idea had seemed promising to lend the prince a hand when it came to wardrobe, but the book was so cliché and syrupy, she just could not read any further.

_Vegeta was never meant to be the male lead of anything_, she thought. She knew he had normal emotions, but the scale mostly stayed towards the angry and determined side. In fact, she was certain the side of compassion and love had caked over with layers of dust from never being used. But those emotions were there, it would simply take a miracle to bring them out. As a character in a romance novel, he just wasn't fit for the part. Still, she liked to dream.

She looked over at her clock and saw it was past eleven. If she wanted, she could start another book, but sleep sounded a better idea. A soft thud sounded as she knocked a pile of books over as she stood from her chair. With a quick stretch and a quick change into her nightgown, she was ready to sleep.

* * *

After the events of the day, he had tried to carefully avoid any unnecessary contact with that woman. She nearly burnt his dinner and afterward had smelled heavily of arousal. Perhaps he should be glad the woman enjoyed cooking for him so much, but he doubted that was the reason for her excitement. No, she was just a bitch in heat that would torment his senses for the next week or so until her cycle ended and she began bleeding once more. By that time, her parents would have returned and he could more easily avoid her scents.

He did wonder, though, why his mind had wandered twice in one day to the idea of dominating that woman. She was rather attractive. He remembered the first time he saw her: It was on the Planet Namek and she possessed one of the dragonballs he sought. Had he been conquering the planet instead of searching for immortality, he might have taken advantage of the sumptuous meal that was her body. But he had priorities. Now that his list of priorities was somewhat shorter, perhaps the desire to fornicate had raised a few levels in his brain. And teaching her respect for His Highness was not an unpleasant notion either.

No, he rationed, it must be because he could not train so heavily for these past two days. The pent up energy that would have been released by now was still present and it was looking for alternative ways to use it. Whatever the case, it would not last much longer, and it was simply another nuisance for him to overcome.

He turned over in his bed and took in a deep breath, but he almost forgot to release. The scent was present, if ever so faint. A tingling sensation pulled at his member and the tissue began to harden. He attempted to turn over and face away from the offending odor, but now that he had smelled it the scent would not leave. His body reacted and sent a hand to grasp the engorged organ, but he stayed it from moving. _That woman caused this, now she will remedy it._

_

* * *

_

She sat up and held her face between her palms. So, no dice on the romance novels, but her dreams played up Vegeta very nicely. Her mind had paid no attention to his outfit, but it captured the delicate details of how he teased each sensitive area of her body and had shown her the most mind-blowing sexual experience she had ever known. It dawned on her why her dreams had been so explicit lately.

Ever since breaking up with Yamcha, she had discontinued taking her oral contraceptive. At the time, she decided to swear off men until the perfect guy came along. One of the less attractive side-effects of oral contraceptives was a decreased libido. Now, she had never had sex without the contraceptive, so she figured the most it did to her libido was mildly dull a few aspects. Little did she know those few aspects turned out to be the orgasm of a lifetime. Or so she assumed. Doing herself solo had definitely increased in its pleasure over the past few months, but she did it so rarely that she attributed the infrequency of the act to be the reason for the increased pleasure. Well, she could now rule that out.

As it was at the moment, she was slick and ready to be taken with no one to help her out. Playing DJ was an option, but if she tried anything the bloodhound of a prince might find out, and she would be listening to his condescension for the next three hours. She slipped slowly out of bed, threw on a pair of thick sweatpants, and ran to the bathroom. There, she gave herself a quick, cold sponge bath to remove whatever scent might be there, and went back to her bedroom. Now the prince would never know.

Except he was standing at the foot of her bed when she returned.

"Washing yourself to hide the scent does not work so well if you leave your bed sheets open to the air." He was not smiling, but she heard a bite of amusement in his voice. Her face reddened.

"Ugh, just leave. I'm tired and I don't have time to deal with you. Accept that I'm female and go away." The problem was, with Vegeta standing so regally and solid, her hormones were going into overdrive. _Sexy male, must fuck_, was what her primitive brain was telling her. And her higher functions were struggling to argue.

He took a step closer to her. "I am not convinced you want me to leave. You say you want me to leave, but your body is tightening every second I remain." He moved closer. She could not think of a good argument for him to leave. Backing up would have been her prime alternative, but that only worked for two steps until she hit the wall. Finally, he reached her and placed his hands on the wall at either side of her head. "If you really have no desire for me, just say so and I will leave." He was grinning, and she could not bring herself to form words. The bastard knew she would not reply, and he was reveling in that fact.

"Very well then." She was not sure what shocked her more: the delicate way he removed her clothing, or the gentle movements of his hands upon her flesh. He boxed her in between himself and the wall, a free hand now making its way across her breasts. It was warm, warmer than a human would be, and slow in its movement. The flesh was calloused, but he moved very softly and caused her no discomfort. Who would have thought a hot-blooded Saiyan prince could be gentle? Just as the thought crossed her mind, he took a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Ah!" The exclamation had left her involuntarily. Each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure to her core, moistening the area to the point of gushing. He continued his ministrations until her knees were buckling. Releasing her nipple, he gave her a pleased look.

"Too much for you, is it?" All she could manage was a small nod. The next thing she knew she was laying on her bed, the prince sitting perpendicular to her torso. He bent to the other breast and covered it with his mouth. Again, an involuntary exclamation of pleasure left her lips. Yamcha had never been this good. This was like a slow symphony that was building up to something incredible, and Vegeta was the maestro.

As he suckled her breast, one hand played with the weight of the unattended breast and the other hand meandered down her stomach. When his fingers touched the wet entrance of her core, a slight twinge of embarrassment went through her. She was bare and open to him. It felt a betrayal to herself to let him have such intimate knowledge of her, but the moment of embarrassment passed as he played with the center of her core.

Her hips bucked and her moans became louder and more demanding. The prince removed himself from her breasts and gave her a knowing smirk: she imagined this was the way he looked when he was about to conquer a foe. And then he plunged his fingers into her slick core. The noise she made surprised herself, and it did not stop as he stroked deeper and faster; in fact, the noise only intensified. Each stroke was like a precisely calculated move to elicit the most pleasure from every movement. As he sped, she had to grip the covers to keep from screaming, but that was too little, too late.

The pressure built up deep inside her and threatened to spill forth any moment. She knew he could feel her tighten, and hoped beyond hope that he would not leave her at the edge without guiding her over it. As she reached the plateau, was looking over the edge, he pushed her through and caused her to scream.

* * *

_Yes, scream._ It was intensely satisfying to have her squirming beneath his grasp and screaming from his actions. He had thought of leaving her from her release, but then she might be severely less-inclined to reciprocate. That was the whole reason for giving her pleasure. He knew well and good that asking for a sexual favor from that woman would have ended with her laughing at him and telling him to do something obscene to himself. This way, she had no choice but to comply. And her screams did very good things for his arousal.

As she came down from her high, he stood from the bed and removed his undergarment. She looked at him wide-eyed, not sure what to think, but a gentle push of her head to his member told her everything. For a moment, he thought she might refuse, but then she opened her lips for him and took his length inside. She was very warm. For a few strokes, she used her mouth alone and moistened the shaft for further use. Soon, though, her hand joined her mouth and slipped up and down, stroking his length as her tongue caressed his head. Had he been a weaker man, he might have let a sound of pleasure escape from him, but he was not a weaker man. Though, she was making it difficult for him.

Lying belly-down on the bed, her elbows propping her up, seemed an advantageous, though strenuous, position. Her free hand reached under to play at the underside of his testes, and that alone nearly brought him to his knees. How audacious! No woman he had bedded had ever touched him there without permission. It was a very sensitive bit of anatomy, but this woman seemed to realize this. The pleasure of each stroke of her hand and mouth was only heightened by the soft caress below. He placed one hand on the back of her head to have something to steady himself. Her soft, blue hair tangled beneath his fingers as she quickened her pace. As his release came nearer, he had to struggle to keep a soft grasp on her head. She was very talented, would have made a fortune as a whore.

He could no longer hold out, and held the woman's head still as he spilled his seed within her. As a moment of weakness, a barely audible groan of pleasure left him.

* * *

His seed was very hot, like a steaming cup of tea. Yes, Saiyans definitely had higher body temperatures than humans. She had little choice but to take it all since he held her head from moving, but it was easier to clean up this way. Finally releasing her head, she licked the tip for any residual seed and then stood to rid her mouth of the odd-tasting liquid. She dashed to the bathroom and spit it into the washbasin. After rinsing her mouth with water, she took a step back to look at her naked body. Love bites lay scattered about her breasts. It was fortunate he had not touched her above them, otherwise her fashion choices would be limited to some very conspicuous turtlenecks.

Returning to her room, she noticed the prince had gone. What should she have expected? He had come to get his release, and now that he was finished he had no further need to stick around. And then she wanted to kick herself.

She was being so analytical about the whole situation that it took awhile for it to dawn on her that she and Vegeta had just shared a sexual experience, and this time it was no dream. Her stomach sank a little. Things were about to get very awkward around here.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review: it really gets me motivated. The next chapter may or may not be up within the next week. I have been coming down with a cold and have had quite a bit of schoolwork piled upon me. But, it will definitely be up within no later than two weeks. Things are starting to heat up, so I don't want you to have to wait too long. Thanks again.


	4. No More

A/N: Thank you for those who have been reviewing. It makes me happy. :) I'm sorry it took so long for me to publish this chapter: I had the flu last week and pretty much did nothing but sleep. Anyway, this is the final chapter of the fanfic. Please enjoy.

**Warning:** For Mature Adults only.

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama

* * *

She was dawdling. Sleep had not come to her last night, and at five in the morning she had quietly taken a shower, disinfected the area, and put her nose to the grindstone. So many programs had to be tested; she was glad now to have so much work. Unfortunately, she could not avoid the prince forever. If she did not fix the gravity sensor, he would be back and angrier than yesterday, and she certainly had no desire to deal with him on any level. But she knew he would be in the gravity room, training, so she had no choice but to see him. Well, she could put it off for another few hours.

Those few hours were not long enough. Eventually she found herself so nervous about fixing the sensor that she could not focus on anything else. _Damn it, he's just another stupid male. Just do it._ She repeated the last several times as she gathered her tools and started her slow trek to the chamber outside. He was definitely inside, pounding away at the poor thing. Why did she suddenly have to be afraid of him?

Her knock was not very loud, but it seemed loud enough to attract the prince's attention. This time he did not ask any questions, he simply opened the hatch and stepped aside to let her enter. It was strange to not hear him bicker, but the faster she could get this over with the faster she could get away from him. She was not even really sure why she wanted to get away from him. What had happened last night seemed mutual, but that sort of thing did not happen between people like them, it just didn't. Perhaps that was the reason for her discomfort. Nonetheless, she made quick work of the sensor and left.

She had expected something from him. The whole time she worked on the sensor, he had just stood back and watched her work. When she left, he just closed the hatch and continued his training. It was odd behavior for him. Never had he be so cooperative and silent. It was not unwelcome, but definitely out of character.

* * *

That woman was going to be the death of him. It had taken just about all his strength to open the door for her. After last night, he was unsure of how his body might react to her, and he swore he would be done with her. She had caused his reaction, and she had fixed it. End of story. But he felt it would not be as easy as that. She was not, as he had first thought, someone to be ignored. No, he believed much more contact between the pair of them and he would be bending her over the closest object of waist height. He had already succumbed to temptation once, and he was determined to not let it happen again.

* * *

For the next two days, neither of them saw more than mere glances of the other. Bulma made sure to leave meals out for Vegeta far before he would need them, and locked herself away at her workstation for the remainder. Though uncomfortable, she even slept at her workstation, not daring to leave any hint of her scent near the prince. She was rather disgusted with herself for being so afraid of one man, but this one man did things to her psyche that no other had done before. In some deep, dark corner of her mind, those things were delicious and she wanted more. It was that corner of her mind that necessitated her keeping busy. If the prince asked for her to kneel before him and give her body to him for his pleasure, she might just do so.

The thought itself sent tremors to her core. By keeping away from him for so long, she was becoming more and more easily excited. It was maddening how the thought of him at all was enough to get her wet. She sighed and sat back in her chair, far too distracted to get any more work done. It was not a mealtime, so it was probably safe to leave the workroom for a little while: she desperately needed something caffeinated.

As she expected, the house was unoccupied aside from her. She made her way to the kitchen and perused the refrigerator for any cola, but the only drinks available were milk or juice. _Coffee it is, then._ It was not her drink of choice, as it was a warm day, but she could always ice it down. At least her mother had left fresh coffee for her. After grinding a portion of beans, she placed them in a filter and added water to the coffeemaker. Just a few minutes, and she would have caffeine. Fate, however, seemed to have other ideas.

A spark ripped through the machine, breaking the coffee pot and shorting the maker itself. She shrieked and jumped backward, glad it had decided not to catch on fire. As she looked over the machine she happened to look out the window. Vegeta was walking along the house, and it appeared as though he had passed by the window seconds earlier. _Of course_. Quickly, she cleaned up the glass and unplugged the machine. It was a nice coffeemaker, too. As soon as that big lug stepped through the door…

"You broke my coffee machine!"

The prince seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly regained composure. "Pardon me, but I did no such thing. I have better things to do than go around breaking your toys." He crossed his arms and stared. It was hard not to stare back.

"It was your damned energy! You stepped just close enough to the house to blow the fuse and kill the coffeemaker. How do you expect me to go through the rest of this week with no coffee?" She had not expected to be so angry with him, as things like this had happened fairly often since he had been around. But she felt the need to channel her rage towards him, and this seemed a good excuse as any to do so.

"Why do you not hole yourself up in that workroom of yours? It seems to have worked for you so far."

That was it, she was done with taking his flak. "I need coffee to do the work that is in my workroom. No coffee, no work. No work, no workroom! And that means I will be out here a lot more often, waving my great, big, offensive scent everywhere." She took a step closer to him and clenched her fists. "And no workroom means you can forget about breaking anything in that gravity room. 'Cause if you do, I won't fix it!"

That got his attention. He uncrossed his arms and took a step, pointing towards her chest. "Listen to me, woman. You have no choice in the matter. I will break what I want, when I want it, and you will fix it lest I decide to break you."

"Oh, like you would! You break me, and no more room for you. You're stuck with me, so you better play nice or—"

"Or what?" His tone was deadly soft. He moved closer to her and stopped within inches. "I will ask you once more: what will you do if I decide to not play nice?"

"I'll…" She couldn't think of anything, not really. It was the same old argument they had had dozens of times, but this time she was really mad. Before she knew it, her hand had smacked the Saiyan prince across his face. His face was probably the most stunned she had ever seen it.

He touched his face gingerly and looked back at her, and she wondered how many seconds it would be before she would be sent flying across the room. "That almost hurt." The kiss that followed would have sent her crashing to her knees if Vegeta had not wrapped an arm behind her. His lips were a bit rough, and the way he played with hers was almost as if they were sparring. It was a needing, passionate kiss that she had only read about in her trashy novels. She closed her eyes and sank into it, moving her lips in time with his. His tongue fought to enter, and she let him win. Their mouths joined in a hot passion that sent pleasure down her body.

After what seemed an eternity, she felt herself being moved, and then felt the cool wood of the kitchen table against her back. He relinquished her mouth and knelt before her, bringing her jeans and panties with him. Kisses were left upon her knees and thighs as he worked his way up and found her core. She braced for a touch that did not come and look over her stomach to see that he had paused and was breathing deeply. Was her scent really that intoxicating? Hmm, good to know she had that kind of power.

Before she could revel in her discovery, a soft pressure touched the center of her core and sent a wave up her spine. It moved over and around, up and down, repeating delicate circles. She gripped the sides of the table and tried not to cry out, but a finger joined the prince's mouth and the ecstasy escaped unbound. Once the pleasure left her lips, however, the pressure left and she was left unrewarded.

"I am afraid it is not that simple." Vegeta wore a smirk as he lifted her from the table and knelt her before him. He wore nothing but his training shorts and shoes, and she could see the outline of his arousal quite clearly. Unbidden, she slipped her fingers underneath the band of his shorts and pulled them to his ankles, freeing his member to the air. She had to admit, he was definitely well-equipped in comparison to the other males she had seen; not that she had seen them at full-mast, but she knew the prince would have no competition.

As she had done a few nights previously, she licked around the head and up the shaft to allow easier movement, and then took his length within her mouth. Indeed, he was a challenge, but oh so delicious. Her hand moved in time with her mouth, each stroke slower than the last. Finally, she stopped and removed her mouth, pausing only to give the head a tiny kiss. She would not be his slave.

* * *

_Evil woman_, he thought as she removed herself from his member. Well, she would learn soon enough that she would obey, and she would beg for more. He stepped out of his shorts and quickly removed his shoes and socks. "Stand," he commanded her and he was pleased when she complied. She was certainly a visual feast to consume. Her milky skin showed no imperfections: from her pink nipples to her sumptuous hips, she was perfect. And he intended to bathe himself in it.

He turned her around and gently bent her over the table. Over the years, sex had been obtained through various means, usually through exotic whores that did not like pain. He had learned to be careful, and now he was glad he had. He leaned over her, one hand steadying himself on the table, the other reaching to her front to fondle a breast. Her gentle cries hardened his arousal and it took most of his self-control to refrain from penetrating her prematurely.

His mouth found her neck and his tongue tasted the delicate flesh. From the nape of her neck to the edge of her shoulder blade, he left gentle bites. Each bite elicited a high moan, and she writhed in pleasure beneath him. He could feel how hard her nipple was, could feel how wet her core had become. And he could also feel how his seed longed to be freed. He could not delay the inevitable any longer.

Releasing her breast, he straightened himself and placed both hands on her buttocks, spreading them lightly to take a good look at her moistened core. He pressed himself against the slick entrance and teased with his head. When she was moaning and bucking her hips, he finally entered her, hilting himself with the first thrust. The noises she made were heavenly. She was so warm and felt so good. He moved inside her, each thrust calculated to evoke the most pleasure possible. When the woman began moving in time with him, he increased his ministrations and began to feel himself tumble over the edge.

It was difficult to breath. Each movement brought forth a grunt of exertion, a small declaration of the pleasure he was gaining from the experience. Forget weakness, a good fuck should never be silent. He felt himself begin to reach his climax, and he could hear she was reaching her own. As he steadily sped up, so did her moans until she was screaming. Suddenly, her core crashed around him, massaging his member. He was sent over the edge with her.

* * *

She rolled over to look at the prince and felt pleased at how exhausted he appeared. Occasionally he looked as exhausted from training, but it was a good feeling to know her vagina was the equivalent to a 300G workout. She sat up and stretched.

"So, are you going to play nice now?"

The prince gave her a sharp look and then looked away. "Perhaps. You are more useful than I thought."

* * *

The remaining days were filled with passionate coupling, but the end of the week brought her parents and quite enough distraction for the both of them. Whatever she and Vegeta had been, they were no longer. And nothing less than the death of their son would be the key to bringing them back together.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading this fanfic! It was a good ride while it lasted. So, a few people seemed confused by the last line, so I will clarify *Spoilers*: Near the end of the Cell Saga, Trunks from the future is killed by Cell, which makes Vegeta realize he actually cares for his son. Later, in the Majin Buu Saga, you learn Vegeta eventually marries Bulma. So, it is sort of inferred in the series that Trunks' death is what led them to get back together. Sorry for any confusion.

Anyway, I am planning on doing another couple fanfics in the future: one will be B/V during the seven years between the Cell Games and The Majin Buu Saga, and the other will be a Krillin/18 set during the same time period. Please look for them. Well, hope to see you all soon.


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